a psalm 23 home

Written By Andy Richards

hello dear heart,

I wrote the essay below, “Grazing and Gazing” as an assignment for the Renovare Institute. The invitation was to create our own “reloaded” version of Psalm 23, live in it for a month as a spiritual practice, and then share our observations about our views of God and our choices to trust and surrender.

Soaking in this Psalm for thirty days brought me to the park in the photo above, over and over again. I was drawn to the grassy pastures, the cool shade of the mature oak trees, and the beautifully expansive space. Somehow, God felt more accessible there.

And what I discovered was the possibility of heaven interlocking with my life—Psalm 23 becoming a reality.

This special place has allowed me to live into a deep rhythm of rest—where God truly is my Good Shepard, who cares for all my needs, and I, his beloved sheep, simply receive his care.

I’ve walked, run, napped, skipped, crawled, crumpled up, and handstand-ed all over this green pasture—learning to offer my body a safe place to be, just as it is. In these green pastures, I practice unblending from my burdened parts and experiencing Spirit-led agency, moving from dysregulation to a balanced state of being.

In “wasting time” with God here, I’ve gained a bounty of ways home to myself and routes home to Jesus.

In my own journey of coming home, I’ve learned that healing and growth are wonderfully unique to each of us, and there is no one-size-fits-all approach. For years, I lived chasing solutions and stumbling down paths others walked and still unable to get to the root motivation of my issues. My history of complex trauma hasn’t created the easiest conditions for my body to find safety. The remnants of trauma left invisible and very complex imprints.

And these imprints were speaking to me through my body's responses. They were inviting me to look outside the box to step onto my own path towards wholeness and freedom. As I learned to listen to these body signals, I knew I had to start giving myself permission to color outside the lines! When I began to invite my body to the party, learning to listen and attune to its subtle cues, I not only began to make sense of the invisible weights I was carrying—I also learned to support my body back to safety.

I began to offer my body a way home…

 

grazing and gazing in the rich fields of love

An undeniable, powerful force draws me into a resting place of luxurious love: the rich, green fields. 

My town has plenty of open space. Many mornings lately, I pause to scan my mind's directory of parks to consider which field to dine in.

It’s there that I’m offered a limited-time menu curated to me: soul chow to showcase God’s special ingredients, seasonal solutions, or an offering of surplus inventory—delicately wrapped into today’s tasty dish of grace. I love how he keeps the menu fresh and encourages repeat visits.

Here, life in the first realm seems to end. I’m somehow able to park my earthly treasures, hopeful dreams, bullet list of undones, unresolved messes, and fractured aches right there in my Subaru. 

Taking steps towards the greenery, I allow myself to wade into the refreshing waters of another reality: one of eternal care, endless nourishment, unceasing love, and deep, sweet intimacy. 

The goal in the fields is to simply graze and gaze.

At its gates, I’m met by the Chef de Cuisine, my Good Shepherd. He greets my soul with the smile of the morning to usher me into this easy, breathing space.

I see before me vast and plentiful blades of sustenance. As any sheep would intuitively do, I allow myself to relax into a posture of grazing: head down, focused on steadily gobbling up the wide variety of fare offered to me. My Shepherd beside me, tending to my needs, stroking my soft woolen fur—adoring the beauty of this fluffy coat he’s designed for me. This coat of belonging, the very skin I wear, is a protective layer insulating sweet love within me, always.

Branded on my side is his stamp of love, declaring and claiming me as his own. I look up from my meal to gaze upon a smile of pure delight on his face. Ahh, my Good Shepherd, who will never leave me or forsake me, right by my side. As long as I choose to remain here within the gates of this reality, in this lush pasture of love, I have nothing to fear. 

I suddenly remember the lengthy catalog of to-dos, not-yets, and how comes. 

He whispers in my ear, “For now, just graze. Just gaze.”

Somehow, my sheepish parts know that he will bring what is good to pass, in his time and his way. I trust him.

So I wait...

 

I’m curious—do you have a Psalm 23 place? In what ways do you support yourself to bring your body back home?

Do share in the comments below, I would love to hear!

 
 
Andy Richards https://imponderabilia.life
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the gift of eternal friendship